Ogred Weary

Susan was thinking about Edward Gorey today.
He first caught her attention here when she was a young teenager and she's crossed paths with his artistic talents often enough since then. Last summer, while on a Cape Cod vacation with Cousin Lisa's family, Susan's husband made a wrong turn & they found themselves directly in front of Edward Gorey's House.

It's Edward Gorey's house!
Susan was both excited and accurate.

A quick hop out of the car to peek in windows and rattle door knobs revealed that it was now a museum which had closed for the day. Susan took note of the location and made a plan to return.

Susan's family had rented a cottage on the beach with Cousin Lisa's family for a week. However, Susan prefers to characterize it as a beachfront sh*t hole. It was too small to comfortably fit both families, the appliances appeared to be original prototypes and there wasn't so much as a fan to assist in moving the stifling air about.
Who knew Massachusetts got so hot?
Every morning thousands of tiny spiders could be found sleeping out on the deck after a full night of spinning webs & embedding themselves into everything in sight.
Susan could write volumes about how much she hated the sh*t hole, but she won't because she really just wants to write about Edward Gorey's house.

Susan and Cousin Lisa returned to the house two days later without kids or husbands. It was during this trip that Susan discovered that she has more confidence in maps than talking boxes giving directions.

Edward Gorey's house was old and creaky with a fresh coat of white paint. Mr. Gorey had been a collector of much and a particular pack ratter of books which Susan learned through the photographs on the walls and by talking to the docent. He kept so many books while he lived there that certain rooms were un-navigable. Even with much of the contents removed, Susan found there was plenty to look at and all of it was entertaining.
Cousin Lisa however, was not down with the whole musty house experience & retreated to the outside pretty quickly leaving Susan to poke around undisturbed.

Susan liked Mr. Gorey's tongue in cheekiness. She was especially fond of a hand sewn doll displayed on a windowsill with its head underneath a large rock, and another visible only as a set of legs sticking out from beneath a rug.

Before Susan left she rewarded herself with a few of Mr. Gorey's books, her favorite of which 'The Curious Sofa' made her laugh out loud as she read it, in his house.


Cupcake Murphy said...

I had a really similar experience in Oregon at a Frank Lloyd Wright house and TO THIS DAY I am still haunted by his lack of clutter.

Anonymous said...

I LOVE Edward Gorey! He is one of my most favoritests!